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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27633833">The Visit</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/moirasrosesroses/pseuds/moirasrosesroses'>moirasrosesroses</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Schitt's Creek</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Husbands, In-Laws, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon, Sick Character, Sickfic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 18:06:45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,545</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27633833</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/moirasrosesroses/pseuds/moirasrosesroses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Patrick and David finally get a chance to visit Patrick's parents for the weekend, but David isn't feeling well.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Patrick Brewer/David Rose</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>210</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Sorry to bring about new thoughts of illness, but at least it's not Covid?</p><p>Written for no-heckin-touch who helps me endlessly with my stories :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“You don’t have to be nervous to see my parents, you know,” Patrick said, glancing at David in the passenger seat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not nervous,” David defended. He didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>feel</span>
  </em>
  <span> nervous, but he didn’t feel perfectly calm either. He couldn’t quite figure it out. He wasn’t nervous to see his in-laws again, he was just… not feeling completely well. In fact, he had been feeling under the weather all morning. His skin was crawling, his head hurt, his throat was sore. But he was determined not to ruin Patrick’s time with his parents. Patrick had packed and repacked their suitcase, talked to his mother endlessly about when they would arrive, and notified their customer list that they’d be closed for the weekend. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They love you, David,” Patrick continued as if not noticing David’s uneasiness. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm,” David hummed and glanced out the window. The landscape zooming by almost made David sick to his stomach, but he couldn’t even remember the last time he felt carsick. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He reached over to the air conditioning and turned up the A/C hoping it would help him feel a little more normal. The cool air blasted over the small beads of sweat on his forehead, suddenly feeling at least slightly better. </span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“Mrs. Brewer!” David hugged Marcy tightly, grateful to be out of their car. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“David,” she seemed to be trying to hug tighter than David was. “I think that car ride did a number on you,” Marcy finally let go. “You feel warm.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s what he gets for wearing a sweater in summer,” Patrick teased, getting their suitcase out of their car. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hush, Patrick,” Marcy scolded. “Who taught you manners?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick smirked and shut the trunk of his car. Walking towards where his mother was standing with David, he reached an arm out for his mom, “Don’t I get a hug too?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course, my sweet boy,” Marcy returned his hug with a wide smile. “I’m so glad you boys could come this weekend,” she cooed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Us too,” David smiled warmly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“David, is this your first time here?” Marcy asked, leading them up the back stairs and into the house. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is, Mrs. Brewer,” David replied, following closely behind her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“David, we’ve been over this,” Marcy clucked pleasantly. “You can call me Marcy.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>David chuckled and tried to correct himself. “Okay, Marcy.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe you can teach Patrick some manners,” Marcy teased, glancing behind her at Patrick. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mom,” Patrick tried not to sound like he was whining. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Patrick!” Clint emerged from the living room, his face full of warm fondness. “David,” he smiled, walking towards them and reaching out his arms for a hug from David.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look who I found while I was gardening,” Marcy said kindly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick grinned widely, any worry he had about being home instantly melting away. That is, until he heard his dad say, “You want to take your bags to your room?” David was going to see his childhood room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>David’s eyes widened. “Oh, yes,” he teased softly. “I’ve been looking forward to this.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick rolled his eyes, but tried to hide his embarrassment. Walking into his childhood room, he was hit with an overwhelming sense of nostalgia at the poster of Vernon Wells on his wall and the baseball trophies on the shelf. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Patrick,” David grinned mischievously, looking at a picture of Patrick and his high school friends taped to his wall. “What is this hair?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick sighed and hung his head. “This is why I was nervous about bringing you here,” he said, his hands suddenly on his hips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think it’s cute!” Marcy suddenly appeared in the doorway. “Did you two eat lunch yet?” she asked kindly. If David had ever wondered where Patrick’s sweet, earnest expression came from, he need no longer wonder. Marcy was making the same expectant face at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>David couldn’t help but return her smile. “I could eat.” As soon as he said it, he realized he shouldn’t have. His stomach lurched slightly at the thought of food. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s just the car sickness</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he reasoned to himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let me see what I can do,” Marcy retreated from the room and strode towards the kitchen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick shook his head and set their suitcase on his bed. He glanced back over at David who seemed to be lost in his thoughts. “You okay, David?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>David turned his head sharply, surprised that Patrick could tell. “Yeah, of course,” he waved his hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s just that there’s this baseball and hockey collage over here that I’m surprised you haven’t seen yet,” Patrick smirked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>David snorted at Patrick’s teasing. “Oh, I’m getting there,” David promised. “There’s just </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> much to take in,” he waved his hands around the room. He leaned over the bed to see what Patrick was pointing to. To David’s surprise, Patrick climbed on the bed and planted a surprise  kiss on David’s forehead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Patrick!” David softly laughed at his husband’s sudden antics.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Patrick didn’t return the same laugh. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay, David?” he asked, concern etched on his face. “You feel hot.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t you think I’m always hot?” David tried to turn the conversation towards something else. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick frowned. “David, I’m serious.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Letting out a sharp exhale at Patrick’s persistence, he finally relented. “I think I just need to splash some water on my face. Maybe the drive was a little more taxing than I thought,” David shrugged. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick furrowed his brow in worry, but didn’t want to press it if David did truly feel fine. “Okay, the bathroom is just down the hall on the left.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks,” David said with a small smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to see if my mom needs any help with lunch, so take your time,” Patrick said, walking around the bed and rubbing David’s shoulders. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry about me,” David said kindly as Patrick left the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had almost expected a replica of Jocelyn’s bathroom, but instead he was greeted with a muted grey and blue color scheme. He wouldn’t have chosen the stars and planet  shower curtain, but he was fairly sure this bathroom had remained practically untouched since Patrick left home, so the astronomy related theme was not unexpected. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After taking in the ambiance of the bathroom, he leaned over the sink and splashed cool water on his face, hoping it would help. He really didn’t want to ruin this weekend for Patrick,  but his throat was burning every time he swallowed and a chill ran down his spine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe he just needed some Tylenol and he would be better. He searched through the cabinet in the bathroom hoping he would come across something, but to his chagrin, there was  nothing in the cabinet he needed. He’d need to ask Patrick. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Walking the short distance to the kitchen, he could hear Patrick happily talking with his mom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, David!” Marcy smiled. “We were just talking about you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hopefully only good things,” David grinned. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don't think I could believe anything otherwise.” The way she said it made David almost believe that was true.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just need to grab Patrick for a second,” he cleared his throat. “I’m having trouble finding something that I packed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick nodded and told his mother he’d be back to help her again soon. Following David into the bedroom, he noticed that the bags were untouched. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you looking for?” he asked curiously. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” David hesitated. “Uh, I’m wondering if your parents have any Tylenol.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick’s eyes went wide. “I knew you weren’t feeling well!” he whispered, as if someone would hear him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no, no,” David tried to cut him off. “No, I swear I feel fine. It’s just a small headache and I want to make sure I’m 100% for this visit, that’s all.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick bit his bottom lip, unsure if David was telling him the truth. Giving in, he eventually said, “Fine. I’ll grab you some. But you have to swear to me that you’ll tell me if you get any worse.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>David quirked his mouth to the side and tried to soothe Patrick’s worry by rubbing his upper arms. “Promise.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Patrick said with a short nod. David could hear him opening a drawer in the bathroom and the sound of pills shaking in a plastic bottle. Returning to the room with the white capsules, he handed them to David and pulled out his water bottle from his backpack. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have to tell me if you’re not feeling well,” Patrick repeated as he watched David swallow the Tylenol. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Patrick, I promise,” he said sincerely. Though he had no real intention of telling him if it remained this minor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>David sighed with relief as Patrick seemed to accept David’s promise. “Okay, well, I’m going to go help my mom again,” Patrick said, turning to leave. “And David, remember what  you promised.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, sir,” David teased as Patrick left the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick sighed as he re-entered the kitchen and saw his mom slicing open buns. “Mom, you’re doing too much.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, it’s just some leftovers from the other night. I made a ham and I always make too much anyway,” she brushed it off. “Could you get the square glass baking dish down?” she asked, pointing to a high cabinet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick did as he was told and brought the glass dish to where his mother was standing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh!” Marcy suddenly looked concerned. “He can eat ham, right? He doesn’t eat Kosher?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick laughed lightly at his mother’s concern. “He eats everything,” he assured her. “He only brings out the Kosher excuse when he doesn’t want to eat something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marcy nodded and continued to slice the rolls in two. “If you could take these out to the dining room table, I’m just going to warm the ham in the oven.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Following his mother’s instructions, he saw a stack of plates and a pile of silverware on the table and decided to set the table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Patrick set out the knives, he tried to take his mind off of David and straightened a knife at the place where his dad usually sat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Need some help?” David asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You changed?” Patrick asked it like a question, but it was more of a statement. David had changed from his fuzzy black sweater to a short sleeve button down with stars around the collar. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The sweater was just a little warm,” he shrugged and took the pile of forks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick’s mouth twitched as he tried not to bother David yet again how he was feeling. He had, after all, promised to tell him if it got worse. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And to Patrick’s relief, David seemed to be fine over their lunch. Maybe he wasn’t eating quite as much as normal, but he was at least laughing and joking with his parents and making easy conversation through the lunch hour. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick kept an eye on David through the rest of the afternoon and evening, and each passing hour let him relax a little more. David seemed fine. He helped Patrick’s mom with the dishes after dinner, listened politely as his dad explained the various house projects he had been working on, and even let his parents teach David how to play Cribbage so they could play together as a family.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But any relief Patrick felt at David’s seeming recovery was quickly dispelled as they readied themselves for bed. As Patrick returned from the bathroom, he caught David holding his head in his hands, his shoulders slumped forward. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“David!” Patrick rushed to the bed. “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew</span>
  </em>
  <span> you were worse than you were telling me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, the Tylenol has just worn off,” David made an excuse. “I just need some more, I think.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“David, honey, please,” Patrick squatted so he was resting slightly below David’s eye level. “Please tell me what’s wrong.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m fine,” David tried again. He wasn’t trying to make Patrick feel guilty and he just wanted to sleep. “I just need some more Tylenol.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick sharply exhaled and realized there was no point in arguing with him right now. “Why don’t you get in bed and I’ll bring you some?” he said gently.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>All David could do was nod even though he was barely ready for bed. He had changed into his pajamas and was waiting for the bathroom to do the rest of his routine, but the thought of standing at the sink doing his skincare routine sounded like torture. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could hear Patrick in the bathroom again, the sound of pills being shaken out of the plastic container and water running. He climbed under the covers and tried not to think about his throbbing headache or the chills he was now enduring. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“David, I’m going to take your temperature, okay?” Patrick said it like a question, but David knew he wasn’t asking for permission. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Patrick, I don’t have a fever,” he tried anyway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good, then this should prove that,” Patrick shrugged, sitting next to him on the bed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just give me the Tylenol,” David argued, covering his mouth, the thermometer inches away.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t make me hold your nose closed so you have to open your mouth,” Patrick warned. “Because I’m not opposed to doing that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Glaring at Patrick, David finally relented and took the thermometer from Patrick, placing it under his tongue. As they waited what seemed an interminable amount of time, Patrick brought out a cool washcloth he had readied in the bathroom and placed it carefully on David’s forehead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the thermometer beeped, Patrick was quick to look at it first, lest David try and lie to him about the actual temperature. He frowned as he read the number. “38,” he said flatly. “That’s officially a fever.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Barely,” David scoffed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a fever, David,” Patrick countered. “Not ‘barely,’ but a full blown fever.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then the Tylenol will help,” he said, holding out his hand expectantly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You promised to tell me if you felt worse,” Patrick continued, still holding the Tylenol. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t want to ruin your weekend,” David mumbled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“First of all, you never ruin anything, except for the ending of </span>
  <em>
    <span>La La Land</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Patrick lightly scolded. “Secondly, I don’t want you to pretend to be fine when you’re not. Especially if you’re really sick.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>David squirmed under the direct accusations levied by Patrick and couldn’t deny them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you can have this, but if your fever gets any higher, we’re going to the doctor,” Patrick said, placing the Tylenol in David’s open hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t need to go to the doctor,” David protested suddenly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, that’s not up to you,” Patrick said firmly, hoping he sounded confident when internally he was a ball of anxiety. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>David groaned and let his head flop back on the pillow. “I don’t think you’re really sorry about that.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not really,” Patrick laughed lightly and kissed David’s cheek. He settled in next to his ailing spouse and tried to drift off to sleep, hoping that David’s fever would be gone by morning. </span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“Patrick,” David squeezed Patrick’s hand, hoping to wake him up. “Patrick,” he tried again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick’s eyes fluttered open and squinted at David. “What’s wrong?” he asked suddenly, realization dawning on him. Light streamed through his curtains, so it couldn’t be too early, he reasoned. He faintly heard noises from the kitchen meaning his parents were probably already up and going for the day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think I’m really sick,” David admitted, clutching the cloth to his forehead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick’s eyes widened, debating what to do next. “Okay,” he took a deep breath. “I’m just going to take your temperature quick, okay?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>David nodded and waited for Patrick to get the thermometer out. “I’m sorry,” he groaned. “I wanted you to have fun this weekend, not worry about me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There will be other times to visit,” Patrick tried to ease David’s conscience and put the thermometer in David’s mouth. “Plus, it’s not like you purposely got sick.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>David shut his eyes and waited as patiently as he could for the thermometer to beep. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“38.9,” Patrick frowned. He tapped his fingers against his knee trying to decide what to do and checked the time on the bedside table. “I’m going to go get my mom.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No!” David protested. “No, don’t bother her.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry, David,” Patrick softened his face at David’s protests. “She’s done this before. And, if you’re going to get sick, this is the best place to do it. My mom makes </span>
  <em>
    <span>the best</span>
  </em>
  <span> chicken noodle soup,” he grinned. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>David snorted and didn’t have the heart to tell Patrick that swallowing hot liquid was the last thing he wanted to be doing right now, but Patrick was already out the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“David, you’re not feeling well?” Marcy asked gently as she came into the room followed closely by her son. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t mean to bother you,” David tried to sit up, but his head was pounding and he couldn’t stop himself from wincing very visibly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nonsense,” she insisted, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Where does it hurt?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As David explained his various symptoms to Patrick’s mom, he was secretly thankful that she seemed to have a much calmer demeanor than Patrick at the moment. Every symptom he  expressed seemed unable to phase her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m just going to feel around your neck,” Marcy explained after David was done. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>David nodded and let her gently feel around his jaw. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, David, I can’t be sure but you might have strep,” she said it so simply as if it were nothing, that David almost believed her. “The only way to know for sure is to get a test.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can take him,” Patrick said immediately. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I doubt the walk-in clinic is open yet,” Marcy smiled patiently. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then we’ll go to the ER,” Patrick said briskly, not trying to snap at his mom, but he didn’t want to wait for the walk-in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Patrick, I don’t need to go to the ER,” David said, trying to calm Patrick down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, that’s not necessary,” Marcy agreed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick sighed and crossed his arms in front of him. “Okay, when does the walk-in clinic open so we can go?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let me check,” Marcy stood from the bed. “In the meantime, why don’t you get ready and have some breakfast. David, can I bring you anything?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ice water,” David said dryly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marcy smiled softly. “I can do that,” she said and left the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I knew it was worse than just a cold,” Patrick worried to himself as he quickly changed. “Just the ice water?” Patrick asked as he was about to leave the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick walked to the kitchen to see his mom brewing coffee and talking softly with his dad. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, David’s not feeling the best?” Clint asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mom thinks he has strep,” Patrick explained with a worried frown. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marcy handed David a glass of ice cold water. “Clinic opens at 8 so you can probably go anytime now,” she said gently. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick let out a sigh of relief and quickly retreated to the bedroom where David was still lying in bed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“David, the clinic opens in a few minutes so we’re going to go as soon as you’re ready,  okay?” He set the glass of water on the side table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>David sat up on his elbows and looked at the water on the side table, avoiding Patrick’s gaze. “I don’t think I need to go,” he hesitated. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick shook his head. “Why? Do you suddenly not have a fever?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I just…” David started. “I don’t want to go to the doctor.” He cringed as he said it. He had no reason to dislike doctors. He just really didn’t want to go to one. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick took a deep inhale and sat on the bed next to David. “I’ll be with you the entire way,” he promised. “It’s not so bad. They just tickle your throat a bit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When David didn’t answer, he squeezed his hand in what he hoped was a comforting way. “But we have to go to the doctor. I’m sorry, honey. But we have to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>David nodded and reluctantly climbed out of bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to let you get ready,” Patrick said and kissed David on the forehead before leaving the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick waited impatiently in the living room as David continued to ready himself in the bathroom. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s going to be fine,” Clint tried to reassure him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Patrick said, standing abruptly when he heard the bathroom door open. “Ready?” he asked quickly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As I’ll ever be,” David replied. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The drive to the clinic created a knot in David’s stomach. Not only was he miserable sitting in the car, but he was anxious about sitting in a doctors office waiting room. He knew Patrick was doing his best to be calm and patient with him, but David could tell under the calm demeanor, he was worried too. </span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“I think you might be next,” Patrick tapped David’s knee. David had huddled himself into a corner chair and rested his head on Patrick’s shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You said that 10 minutes ago,” David mumbled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick snorted and went back to looking at his phone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“David Rose!” the nurse called out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>David’s eyes snapped open and he sat up as abruptly as he could, ready to get this over with. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Want me to come with you?” Patrick asked, his eyes soft. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>David sighed. “No, I can do it. Just a tickle of the throat, right?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick grinned and nodded. “I’ll be waiting for you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sat back in his chair and resumed scrolling through social media on his phone as he waited patiently for David to return.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, she almost made me vomit,” he heard David say as he approached where Patrick was sitting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick snorted. “Yeah, that’ll happen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s strep,” David sighed. “And I guess it’s really contagious, so you’ll probably get it. Maybe your parents too, though I don’t kiss them, so hopefully they’re safe.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And now isn’t the time to start,” Patrick chuckled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anyway, we have to pick up some antibiotics,” he said, handing Patrick a care sheet. “And I’ll be contagious for the next 48 hours. I don’t know what we’re going to do about the store,” he continued, suddenly cycling through all the worst case scenarios. What if Patrick got sick? What if he got the Brewers sick? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Patrick cupped David’s head in his hands. “I promise that it’ll be fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I should have just told you I was sick,” David groaned. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be fine and my parents will be too,” Patrick assured him as they walked to the car. “Plus, I wouldn’t trust the chicken soup you would make me when I do eventually get this,” he teased. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who says I would even try to make that for you?” David smirked. </span>
</p><p><span>As Patrick unlocked the car, he cocked his head and did his best impression of sad puppy dog eyes at David. “Not even if I asked so nicely and was really sick?”</span><span><br/>
</span> <span>David smiled despite himself. “</span><em><span>Maybe</span></em><span> then,” he conceded, getting in the passenger seat, thankful to be sitting down again. </span></p><p>
  <span>“We’ll see about that,” Patrick smirked.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>David finally starts feeling better, but then Patrick catches it.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>You were all so wonderfully kind about the first chapter (and I'm so bad at responding to comments :( I promise, I loved each and every one and thank you so so so much)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>David watched as Patrick fitfully slept next to him. He tried not to think about the fact that they couldn’t be comfortable in their own bed which was slightly bigger, though he knew Patrick was probably somewhat thankful he was sick at his parents’ house. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And the more David thought about it, maybe he was thankful for that too. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to take care of Patrick when he was sick. It was just that Patrick had been a bit </span>
  <em>
    <span>needy</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It was really the last thing he had expected from Patrick who generally tried to do everything himself, but “Sick Patrick” was another story. As soon as David had started feeling better from the antibiotics the night before, Patrick started to exhibit the same symptoms David had. Apparently this turned him into a frail invalid incapable of doing practically anything for himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi, handsome,” David smiled warmly, seeing Patrick’s eyes finally open. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick just grimaced and reached for the water on his nightstand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How are we feeling?” David asked soothingly, reaching out his hand to feel Patrick’s forehead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think I’m dying,” Patrick croaked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>David tried to hold back his laugh as his ailing spouse gracelessly flopped back on his pillow. “Well, if it makes you feel better, technically, we’re all dying, some just faster than others,” David tried to lighten the mood. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It doesn’t,” Patrick frowned. “David, can you take my temperature?” he asked, weakly pointing to the thermometer on David’s nightstand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think it will have changed much since the last time you asked me to take it,” David said patiently, but the sad eyes Patrick made at him were enough to change David’s mind. “If it will make you feel better to know,” he conceded and grabbed the thermometer off the nightstand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>David gently curled his fingers through Patrick’s hair as they waited for the beep from the thermometer and David promptly removed it as soon as it was done.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“37.8,” David grinned. “See? The Tylenol must be helping.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Doesn’t feel like it,” Patrick mumbled, shivering slightly. “Do you think my parents are up yet?” he asked hopefully. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>David was really trying to give Patrick the benefit of the doubt that he might actually be feeling as bad as he was acting, but it was almost comical how quickly Patrick had switched to being completely helpless. “I haven’t heard anyone come downstairs yet,” David replied. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They don’t know yet that I’m sick,” Patrick mumbled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am very aware, honey,” David smiled. “And as soon as they’re up, I’ll tell them and we can go to the clinic, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick shut his eyes tightly and drew the blankets up to his chin. “Can I borrow a sweater, David?” he shuddered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>David couldn’t say “no” to Patrick’s request, nor did he want to, but he couldn’t resist teasing, “What’s wrong with the sweatshirt you brought?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please?” he mumbled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a kiss to Patrick’s forehead, David climbed out of bed and searched through their bag. He pulled out the black Alexander McQueen sweater he had worn the day they arrived and brought it back to the bed. “Do you need me to put it on you too?” he smirked lightheartedly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ha, ha, David,” Patrick grunted, pushing himself up on the bed and pulling the sweater over his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Need anything else before I get back into bed?” David asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just you,” Patrick said in a raspy voice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>David climbed back under the covers and brought his arm around Patrick, pulling him close so that Patrick’s head was resting on David’s chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He suddenly realized he couldn’t quite reach his phone from where he was laying but Patrick had clearly fallen back asleep and he didn’t want to disturb him. He leaned his head back into the pillows and thought that maybe he could get some sleep before the Brewers were awake. Patrick’s fitful night hadn’t allowed him a very restful night of slumber. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as he felt himself finally drifting off, he heard the loud creak of the stairs notifying him that at least one of the Brewers were up. Sighing softly, he decided that sleep was just not in the cards for him that day. He tried to gently move Patrick’s arm which was draped over David and then very slowly tried to remove himself as Patrick’s pillow without waking him. A difficult, but successful, endeavor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Padding quietly to the door, he looked back to see Patrick still sleeping, but cursed under his breath at the loud squeak the door made when he opened it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Patrick didn’t seem to notice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shaking his head in amazement, he wandered out into the kitchen to find Clint standing in the kitchen watching the news on the small TV that rested on top of the refrigerator waiting for the coffee to brew. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Morning, David!” Clint said far too cheerily for being 7 in the morning. “Feeling any better?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>David cleared his throat. “Much,” he smiled. “I can’t thank you enough for what you and Mrs. Brewer have done for me.” David couldn’t quite bring himself to call them by their first names yet, even at Mrs. Brewer’s insistence. Blazing past it, he continued calmly, “So, your son seems to have caught the same thing I had.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh oh,” Clint smirked. “Let me guess, he’s being a little helpless.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>David snorted. “Ah, so, he’s always been like this when he’s sick.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“More or less,” Clint shrugged, pouring a cup of coffee. “I blame Marcy for that,” he grinned mischievously, handing David the mug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good to know for the future,” David grinned and took a sip of the black coffee. Normally, he preferred sweetener in his, but he hadn’t wanted to impose on the Brewers’ hospitality and tried to power through the bitterness. “I think we’re going to go to the clinic this morning to get his strep test done.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Need a ride or anything?” Clint asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can handle it. I checked the times for the clinic and they should be open, we were just waiting to let you know where we would be,” David explained, taking another drink of his coffee. At this point, he didn’t care if it was black coffee, he just needed the caffeine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“David,” Marcy said sweetly as she walked into the kitchen. “You’re feeling better?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>David nodded, willing the caffeine to kick in as he took another drink so he could match his in-laws’ level of enthusiasm so early in the morning. “It does seem that Patrick might have caught it though,” he said slowly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, we expected that,” Marcy said unexpectedly calmly. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>You</span>
  </em>
  <span> look tired though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He was a tad…” David paused and tried searching for the right word that wouldn’t offend anyone. “I don’t want to say ‘pathetic’ but maybe ‘needy’ is the right word.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marcy chuckled to herself and poured a cup of coffee. “You can thank Clint for that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me?” Clint asked, feigning offense. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, you,” Marcy teased. “Who’s the one who always brought him glass upon glass of orange juice whenever he wanted it? </span>
  <em>
    <span>And</span>
  </em>
  <span> who’s the one who set up the living room as a second bedroom just so he could watch TV all day? All he had to do was ask, and you did anything for him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clint laughed softly and put his arm around Marcy. “Whatever you say, dear.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marcy shook her head in amusement. “You’re welcome to stay as long as you want,” she offered. Even though Patrick had told him that was the case, it was nice to hear it straight from his mother-in-law’s mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Mrs. Brewer. That’s very kind of you,” David smiled and set the coffee mug down on the counter. “I am going to go get Patrick ready and get him to the clinic so we can get him feeling better. Because it can’t come soon enough,” he joked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Walking back into the bedroom, he saw Patrick still curled up and sleeping peacefully, his hands curled up inside the sleeves of David’s sweater. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Patrick, we’re going to go to the clinic now, okay?” David said, rubbing Patrick’s back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick’s eyes slowly opened and stared up at David. “Did you tell my parents?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, yep, I did,” David nodded and decided not to mention that they both knew that Patrick may slightly have been overreacting. “So, let’s get you out of bed and…” he pulled back the covers. “And into some pants? Where did your pajama bottoms go?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick innocently shrugged. “I got hot last night and took them off.” He pointed to the side of the bed where he had tossed them into a crumpled pile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bringing his hand up to his mouth, David did his best to stifle a laugh. “Okay,” he said amiably. “Sweatpants okay?” he asked, bringing out the pair that Patrick had packed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm,” Patrick nodded. “Can I keep the sweater on?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Might as well.” David eyed the way that Patrick was pulling the sleeves over his balled up fists, but tried not to let it get to him. Patrick really was sick after all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he quickly changed, David watched as Patrick pitifully got out of bed and feebly put his sweatpants on. “Ready?” David asked, holding out his hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nodding, Patrick took David’s hand and followed David out the door. </span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“You have to drink the entire glass of water,” David noted as Patrick set the half full glass on the nightstand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think I really </span>
  <em>
    <span>need</span>
  </em>
  <span> to,” Patrick frowned. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, you made </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span> drink the full glass!” David countered. “And it says right here in the care instructions to take the antibiotic with a full glass of water.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick furrowed his brow in protest but quickly downed the rest of the water after a warning look from David. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, how are we feeling?” David asked lightly, rubbing Patrick’s arm soothingly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sick,” Patrick shrugged. “And water logged.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>David scoffed and kissed Patrick lightly on the temple. “Anything I can get you before I do some laundry?” They were running low on certain clothing items now that their stay had been extended by a few unexpected days. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you email out our customer list that we would be closed for another two days?” Patrick asked, suddenly all business. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And posted it about it on Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter,” David said patiently. “And asked Stevie to put a new sign on the door saying we would be closed.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick nodded solemnly taking in the information. “Sorry we have to have the store closed for so long,” he said softly, as if it were somehow his fault for getting sick. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have nothing to apologize for,” David looked at him in disbelief. “We just need to focus on getting you better.” He wanted to add a teasing “because you need to stop being so helpless” at the end, but decided against it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>David stood from the bed and watched as Patrick huddled in his sweater. He was fairly sure there would be no salvaging the damage Patrick was doing to it, but he was happy to let Patrick have it if it made him feel better. “Well, you let me know if you need anything,” David said softly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you going to be okay doing laundry all by yourself?” Patrick teased. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>David lightly pinched the side of Patrick’s arm. “Unclear at this point.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ow!” Patrick let out an exaggerated yelp. “Stop, I’m sick,” he joked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, are you?” David teased, exiting the room. “I never would have guessed.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>After David had sorted through their bag and started a load of laundry of the essentials, he wandered out to the garden to see Marcy knelt over a flower bed, pulling weeds. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mrs. Brewer,” he said softly, trying not to surprise her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, David,” she smiled sweetly. “I really can’t tell you how happy I am that you’re feeling better,” she continued.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>David smiled warmly and wondered what it was like growing up with parents like the Brewers. It was really no wonder that Patrick was so gracious and kind. “I was wondering if you could tell me where a grocery store was?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s a small one down the road,” Marcy pointed in the general direction. “If you go up to Lapier Street and take a right, it’s on the corner.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks,” David nodded and took the keys from his pocket. </span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>As David walked back into the house after the rigamarole of trying to find the store, he noticed Patrick out of bed sitting with his dad in the living room watching a Jays game. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Feeling better?” David asked hopefully. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick shrugged. “Somewhat. My dad convinced me that I should come out of the room,” he said absentmindedly watching the game. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was clear to David that Patrick was slightly distracted, so he stepped into the kitchen and pulled out a glass from the cupboard. Pouring a glass of orange juice, he brought it to where Patrick was half laying on the couch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I heard you liked orange juice when you were sick,” David said softly, pushing the glass into Patrick’s hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You did that for me?” Patrick asked earnestly, his eyes wide and sincere. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anything,” David whispered softly, trying not to draw too much attention to them with Patrick’s dad sitting so close, though he caught a glimpse of a grinning Clint who was pretending as if he wasn’t noticing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pushing Patrick’s feet off the couch, he sat down next to him hoping that the game wouldn’t last much longer, though he knew it would feel interminable no matter how much time remained. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick sat up and rested his head on David’s shoulder, taking small, awkward drinks from his glass of orange juice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He flipped through his phone scrolling through Instagram and smiled seeing Alexis’s posts with food and friends.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before he knew it, it was time for both of them to take their antibiotics again. David noticed Patrick’s empty glass on the side table and got up from the couch with only minor protestations from Patrick. Swallowing his dose with a full glass of water, he refilled his glass and refilled Patrick’s with orange juice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here you go,” David said gently, handing Patrick his pill after setting down the glasses on the side table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Already?” Patrick asked, checking the time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm, time just </span>
  <em>
    <span>flies</span>
  </em>
  <span> by when you’re watching sports,” David said sarcastically.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick picked up the orange juice off the side table and looked at David, who tried to discreetly shake his head to tell him that he needed to take it with water. Patrick rolled his eyes, but set the juice back down and quickly swallowed his pill while quickly downing the contents of the water glass. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where would you have even gotten strep?” Patrick suddenly wondered aloud. “I thought it was mostly a kids thing.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Probably that brood of children that came in last week. One was hacking all over the place,” David shuddered at the thought. “Little petri dishes.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick snorted at David’s description, resting his head back on David’s shoulder. </span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>David let Patrick place soft, slow kisses down his jaw and neck as they laid together in bed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Feeling better, I see?” David mumbled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick pulled back slightly, a small smile on his face. “Mostly,” he said. “Thank you. For everything,” he said appreciatively. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t do anything,” David waved off the compliment. “If anything, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>ruined</span>
  </em>
  <span> our time here. What adult gets strep?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“David, I promise, you didn’t ruin anything,” Patrick said patiently, cupping David’s head in his hand. “It just gives us an excuse to come back sooner rather than later.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When David didn’t respond, Patrick added quickly, “I mean, if you want, that is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh my, god,” David scoffed good-naturedly. “Yes, of course.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though Patrick hadn’t been truly worried that David wouldn’t want to come back, he couldn’t help the sense of relief that spread across his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, what did high school Patrick do in this bed and should I be grossed out at all?” David teased, pressing the mattress down a few times. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You really want me to answer that?” Patrick grimaced. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Absolutely not,” David shook his head exaggeratedly and pulled Patrick into a kiss.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know, there’s still time to make </span>
  <em>
    <span>new</span>
  </em>
  <span> memories in it,” Patrick said into the kiss and pulled in closer to David.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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